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Entry tags:

loki,
mobius

closed | date but not date-date (UNLESS...)

WHO: Loki, Mobius
WHAT: Dinner and a drink, with some odd canon update shenaniganry
WHEN: a wednesday in early drakonis
WHERE: Kirkwall, evening, a tavern called ~The Innocent Magpie~
NOTES: after this conversation

It's fine. It's all fine. Nothing Loki has said about himself, and nothing Sylvie has said about him, will deter Mobius from making good on Loki's offer of food and drink. Even if, in all technicality, it had been Mobius' idea first for the vague flirtation around the bonfire.

He hasn't spoken to Provost Stark about the events that had been described. It's tempting. He might have to, just to get another perspective on the whole thing. But he tries not to let it bother him. Whatever happens to their enemy, he knows that Loki is making a conscious choice to be better. And if he can't give someone a chance, then...what's the point?

It does amuse him that he keeps getting drinks with people with no real effort involved. Though perhaps Loki and Sylvie have...similar tastes? Astarion mostly just wanted to suss him out and not say no to a free drink. However he feels now is anyone's guess. He arrives at the ferry dock at the Gallows right around the appointed time. He can see the boat on its way, and he's eager to meet up with Loki.

Who doesn't show. And doesn't show. And doesn't show. He's willing to give the benefit of the doubt, but once the ferry arrives, he boards reluctantly and takes out his crystal.

"Ferry's leaving in a second. Where are you at?"

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"Waiting for it to arrive, in Kirkwall," comes the quick response.

He'd been early and checked the ferry that just left, but no Mobius.

"... did you mean for us to meet in the Gallows? I'm sorry, I don't stay there any longer."

"...Oh. Oh, shit." At least he laughs, the sound definitely carrying through. "I didn't even think about that. I knew you didn't live in the bunk quarters, but I thought maybe you had your own room or were rooming with others somewhere a little more private. I didn't even think to ask. Sorry, guess I'll be the one that's late then."

It's good to hear Mobius laugh; it's weird to think he might not hear his friend laugh in such a way again. Or dream of it. However the case may be.

"Oh. No, I did stay in the group quarters when I arrived over the summer, but then the Lady d'Asgard was kind enough to allow me use of apartments her family owns, so that is where I stay now. Don't worry about being late; I'll be here."

"Bit too cramped and loud and smelly over here, huh?" He says it with good humor. The ferry won't take long, and they can laugh it off or talk more about it when he gets there.

But he makes a mental note to ask after Lady d'Asgard. Because...Asgard. He's heard that name, but as a place...elsewhere. Maybe a, hm, relative of the Loki that apparently exists natively here?

But all said and done, eventually the ferry makes its way back over, and Mobius sheepishly extends a hand for a shake of greeting. "Sorry again. Now I know better."

"Something like that." Light amusement in Loki's tone over the crystal. He hated the group housing (namely because he's a terrible roommate who would rather sleep in) and disliked how easily the locks could be picked in the private rooms.

Plus who wants to fuck loudly with that many neighbors? Not Loki, certainly.

Loki is dressed comfortably but nicely, in a sweater and pants with boots that have just a bit of shine to them. His handshake is firm in return. "I probably should have asked a follow-up question, but, no harm done. The Innocent Magpie is this way," he says, gesturing with his now free hand. "Have you gone on any quests for Riftwatch yet?"

The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. "Quests, now that's a noble-sounding word." Is it inappropriate for what they do? Maybe not. "No, not as such. Being a homebody for now. Why, you itching to see me out in the field?"

He follows along beside Loki, clothes casual, still bundled against the chill, but at least it isn't as bitingly cold as last month had been. If nothing else, he's eager to converse with Loki at length in a much more sober state, and in better spirits.

"Is it not a noble thing we're after here, ending a war?" Loki smiles, one side of his mouth lifting in amusement. "No, I just remember how unsettled I felt before I went on my first task. I imagine it's different, for those of you that are born here, but..." A shrug. His curiosity had won out in the moment; is it the same for Mobius?

Probably not.

"Mostly just seeing to...well, research. And frankly, I'm still spending a lot of time in the library just trying to organize things. I'm sure I'll be out on a quest soon enough. Doesn't have to be anything sweeping or grand to make a difference."

None of them are going to change the world by themselves, anyway. He does find some of the phrasing...curious. Quests and tasks and how it might be different for people here.

"I'm not sure why you'd think that. I don't think it's a matter of where you're born; sounds to me like it would be more a matter of if you're used to taking orders for some greater good and putting yourself on the line."

"Organizing that library should possibly be a full-time sort of assignment as it stands." There are a lot of books and various methods of arranging present that Loki has barely managed to make heads or tails of.

Fortunately the books he has access to via Alexandrie are better sorted.

Loki makes a little noise of consideration; he doesn't think that Mobius is wrong, but he suspects that where one was born, what station they've had in life, plays a part in that as well. "You are, but not everyone is." A shrug. "Ah, we've arrived."

Mobius chuckles. "It might be. I'm getting a bit done at a time, so, progress." It hasn't given him much time to read the volumes he's been organizing, alas, but all in due time. One could never read everything in there anyway.

The place is a little unassuming, but in Kirkwall, that's nice. It's not loud and bawdy on the outside, anyway, nor does it seem to have stumbling drunks hanging about outside. "And how innocent is this magpie, really?"

He's asking about the establishment, ostensibly. But he looks at Loki, a look that should be familiar to him, looking and searching and trying to see. Loki's not innocent of plenty of things, he knows this already. But there's still so much to know.

"Well, I don't know the proper story behind the naming of the establishment." Loki's returning gaze is meant to be full of mischief but instead, there's also a quiet sort of longing in his expression for the friend he gained and lost in a matter of unknown hours; information only granted to him through a dream, information he has no idea what to do with. What to hope for. When to expect to learn more. It would be easier if this were the Mobius who knew him; there's no reason to lie to the one person who knows every single terrible thing you've ever done.

More reason to lie to a friend he's not certain will keep, or that he even deserves to have.

"More specific answers require questions of the same sort," Loki points out, as he holds the door open for Mobius. It's quiet inside, too, and relatively clean. A few patrons glance up at the open door but none move toward them.

"Find a seat anywhere," the barmaid tells them, and Loki gestures for Mobius to choose their spot.

He doesn't know why Loki seems to be a terribly lonely person. Setting aside the entire debacle of the adopted family: he's charming, fairly attractive, has money or at least access to money. And surely there are those who can overlook being a Rifter, or being a mage. There can't be too many people here who knows what he's done, before.

So why does he look that way?

It's not a question he asks. Too blunt. You don't just ask someone 'why do you look like you want to reach your arms out to anyone who will look your way' and expect an answer. So. More specific questions for more specific answers.

He gets a table situated along a wall. Takes the seat that puts his back to the door, which leaves Loki's back toward the fire in the back of the tavern. It's nice to ease back into warmth even if their time outside in the chill had been relatively brief, mixup on where to meet notwithstanding.

"You know, if you thought all the sharing you did was gonna make me not want to be your friend, I gotta tell you. You'll have to try a lot harder than that to chase me off."

The whole...invasion thing toed a line. He doesn't want to talk about that part. This is to be a nice evening. He just wants Loki to be sure that this is genuine. Not using him for a free meal or anything like that.

He could ask. Loki might laugh the question off, or stare for a moment, but Mobius could ask. Hard to say if Loki would be in any position to give him a real answer, however.

Speaking of staring: Loki's gaze on Mobius' face as he speaks is both hungry and intense in his search for untruths in what Mobius says. He knows that it's happening; he just feels like there's very little to be done for it.

"I could," he admits, because he has some sense of what might drive any preexisting rifts even deeper, some idea of what would bother a man like Mobius, and then shakes his head. "But I'd honestly rather not. The past is past, or so they say, and I'm trying to be a different person these days." A shrug and he cups his face with one hand, elbow on the table between them.

The barmaid arrives with a query: are they eating or just drinking, tonight? Loki's answer is that he hasn't eaten yet this evening so they may as well get food, a charming smile for the girl as she takes their orders that doesn't exactly slip from his face when she turns away but doesn't shine quite as brightly either.

Sometimes he thinks he can see a little of that variant truth come through. Loki and Sylvie are very different for supposedly possibly being the same person. But they both give off a very pointed intensity. When their interested and searching gaze focuses on you, and you feel a singular pressure for it.

Watching him in return is absolutely fascinating, though. The smile isn't a mask, but the brightness is. That just won't do. They did morose and pitiable at the bonfire. They need to not do that here.

"I already pestered you with about a thousand questions." And he could ask another thousand more and not be bored. "So I'm gonna try not doing that tonight and keep the intensity lower here. It doesn't seem like it's offputting to you, but I promise I can pass for almost normal otherwise." An amusing jab at himself. Start small. "If you've got questions you wanna start rapid-firing at me instead, it would only be fair. Or, we can find a middle ground to start with and build from there."

"In your position, I'd have countless questions," Loki states with a little shake of his head, "so I understand. Besides which, 'almost normal' is highly overrated, even here." Especially here, perhaps. Their drinks arrive (an ale, for Loki) and he takes a moment to sip and enjoy it before he figures out where else this conversation should go.

"I think a middle ground would be good, actually." He takes another sip. "We're both here, in service to Riftwatch, in the midst of a very long war. Why Riftwatch as opposed to the Inquisition?"

Ale is simple and easy, warm and relaxing. Astarion can turn his nose up at it all he wants, but a drink is a drink, and Mobius is a simple man. Sometimes.

"You might not want to encourage me to be weird and eccentric, but I guess that'd be on par with everyone else around here." 'Around here' being Riftwatch, of course, rather than Kirkwall.

It's a good and fair question to start with, though. Mobius leans back, shrugs easily. "Inquisition's under direct Chantry control at this point." He does not say 'because they would see me as a Templar and treat me as such', which is also, frankly, a huge reason. "With a rigid approach. Not that I don't trust them," he adds thoughtfully. "But the chances of me being stuffed into armor and marched to the front lines is pretty high. Needs an outside view. Different perspective. Fresh tactics."

"I encourage the chaoticness inherent in everyone. Besides this, Riftwatch is somewhat known for its eccentricities, certainly."

A small smile, as he takes another sip and listens to Mobius' reasoning. "Not everyone is a fan of the Chantry," he points out with a light shrug, "especially those of us who might be considered less than the rest by virtue of being of the Fade, or mages, or both." Is Loki concerned with what might happen after the war is over? Definitely. He doesn't want to be bundled up and sent away, sight unseen, to some strange place where he has to listen to other people about how he should conduct himself merely because he possesses magical ability and wasn't born in this world.

"Throwing bodies at the front lines isn't what's going to win this war, anyway."

"I'm a fan of the Chant in its various forms. And the Chantry is not an inherently bad idea. I just happen to occasionally disagree with the institution." Like, perhaps, the idea of anyone being Less Than. "It's complicated," he adds a little sheepishly. A cop-out maybe, even if it's true.

"But still, a fair point to be made. An Exalted March looks good on paper, but with something as big as this, it isn't going to be a case of who has a bigger army. Starkhaven won't be freed if it's surrounded by a mountain of rotting corpses."

"You have faith in the inherent goodness of the institution." It's not a bad thing. A little naive perhaps, from where Loki stands, but not bad exactly. Not that he's going to say that aloud. "And are disappointed in the result?" A raised eyebrow.

"I've been given an idea of what it might look like once the direct conflict ends." If it ever does, he doesn't say. "War is a messy business."

Mobius makes a thoughtful face, humming around a mouthful of ale as he considers. "Let's put it this way: people run the institution, and people are always gonna be flawed, so the institution will always be flawed. Heart's in the right place sometimes, and sometimes it's just politics. You learn to try and read between the lines." Sometimes literally, if he were to ever show off his old copy of the Chant.

"No such thing as a clean war. That's why there's Riftwatch. Do some of the smaller but no less important shit. We fight, yeah, but we scout, we research, we listen to the word on the street, we dish out a little propaganda of our own, we help. Without having to waste so many lives."

"Is that easy? Reading between the lines of where there is flawed human idealism and thinking and where it's all boiled down to the popular or unpopular politics of the time?"

Loki's not trying to needle; he's trying to honestly understand. He's been a part of the royal house of Asgard for so long that he doesn't know how other people deal with or view these kinds of things, and he's curious as to Mobius' input on it.

He thinks there might be such a thing as a clean war, but it looks more like genocide than anything else. But he nods, and takes another drink of his ale.

"Easy, Maker, no. Sometimes it's more obvious, sometimes less, and sometimes you can't really separate the politics from the idealism; sometimes they're actually one in the same."

He sets his hands on the table, leaning just a little. "I could give you a bit of a history, but I promise you're gonna be bored about it by the time I'm through." Or maybe not. Maybe Loki would find it genuinely interesting. Not being from here, not knowing much about the Chant and the Chantry. "Or I could talk about the late Divine Justinia, Andraste guide her spirit, and how she exemplified the whole heart in the right place but definitely was about politics thing. Just in a far more progressive way."

"When you put it like that I realize that was something of an ignorant question." The last thing Loki wants is for Mobius to think he's stupid or something, but. "WHere I'm from politics are a much different sort of process. My home is home to just one people, with one governing class, and one set of decisions made on how to do that. I've been to other places where there is more variety, but I don't know a lot of the intricacies of how they all work. Politics-wise."

At the offer of a history lesson, either further back or more current, Loki has to take a moment to consider. Mobius could tell him just about anything and Loki would be at least a little interested, if not strictly fascinated, but expressing that seems a little too hopeless for his tastes.

"I've tried reading about what Thedosians would consider 'ancient' history, I suppose, but keeping the places straight has been a challenge; let's start with Divine Justinia then."

"Not really ignorant. I don't wanna treat you with kid gloves or anything, but you also don't know better. This is a different place. Works differently. The thing with the Chantry is that it's not technically a ruling political body, just a religious one. But the majority of people are Andrastian to some degree, and the power is palpable. They named the months; at the end of every hundred years, the Divine sees signs and portents and names the next Age after whatever seems befitting. Sure, there are kings and viscounts and dukes and whatever ruling each country, and Tevinter does everything differently over there. But the Divine has a lot of power in Thedas."

And that's just some very extremely basic background. They are gonna need more drinks. He raps his knuckles a few times on the tabletop, gathering his thoughts. "Let me know if you get bored. Or if it gets uncomfortable. It's not always the cheeriest topic." Just as a warning. In spite of anything Loki's done in the past, the doesn't want to touch on things so dark or dreary that it spoils the mood of two friends on a maybe-date-thing.

"So. Divine Justinia V, so named because Most Holy always ends up taking up some kind of new name from their real name when elected, and they tend to pass the same names around, was already a pretty controversial pick when she got elected. Frankly, I don't know how she got elected, because it's supposed to be unanimous from the Grand Consensus--that's all the grand clerics that gather together to vote. The Divine before gets to recommend someone, and usually that passes without incident, but it's only a formality to do so, cuz the Consensus does the actual voting and electing and might end up picking someone else. She had some stuff in her past that made some of them a little leery, I don't know the details but rumors abound that she had dealings with bards, and it was known that even from the start that she leaned more progressive. Like I said, shocked she actually got elected.

"She gets elected and it becomes pretty clear to everyone else how progressive she is. Pretty sure she was doing some stuff behind everyone's backs, again, that's stuff that's only rumor, but what we do know is that she ended up being very pro-mage for the Divine. Mage rights, well, maybe we won't go that far, but she has definitely done things to help the mage cause even if just indirectly. When everything went south with the mage war, Lord Seeker Lambert said that she was one of the big reasons what happened at the White Spire went down, because she had called him up so that he wouldn't be available to help out quelling that rebellion. She was the one who invoked the Conclave to get the mages and Templars together to vie for peace. Maker bless her, that's where she ended up dying and everything with Corypheus started. Big on mages, big on some very generally progressive ideas and ideals, very unpopular opinions as a whole, but she believed wholeheartedly and tried to use her powers and influence thusly.

"Before that, we're talking a couple years before the Conclave, she also made a big splash with the actual Chant of Light itself. You're mostly gonna find the original Reader's Edition printed in the common trade tongue from back in the Storm Age. She decided to have the New Cumberland version printed. Backstory on the Chant, that's also been subject to politically-influenced revisions. There's a whole canticle about Shartan, leader of the rebel elf slaves, and how he and his people helped Andraste and vice versa, stricken from canon because, what do you know, elves got really unpopular after the Exalted March on the Dales. There are a bunch of these dissonant verses, things that used to be in some version of the Chant or another, officially, at some point, but got taken out for reasons. So Justinia decides she's going to release the New Cumberland Chant of Light, almost ten years ago, and that one's one of those ones that's meant to be as accessible as possible to as broad a range of people as possible, it has the dissonant verses published. That doesn't make them canon; they're still not officially part of the Chant, don't get sung. She could've tried to reverse that, but it absolutely would not have worked out for her. But it's all still there printed for anyone to read."

He takes a long, long pull of his drink after that. "I'm not a great storyteller. Sorry."

"You're not as terrible a storyteller as you appear to think."

There's food that arrives toward the end of Mobius' explanation of all things Divine Beatrix, and Loki, presuming that they'll probably share whatever is in front of them, takes a small plate with offerings from both of their orders and takes a bite, thinking. It's interesting stuff, this issue of the New Cumberland Chant, of making things accessible even if you can't change the entire thing to fit the needs of everyone.

"A shame she's dead. Do you think she would have been successful had she survived the Conclave?"

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